


written on the subway walls

by PaxDuane



Series: Unrelated Star Wars Drabbles [4]
Category: Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alien Biology, Alien Sex, Biting, Body Worship, Come Eating, Creampie, Cunnilingus, Face-Fucking, Finger Sucking, Fix-It, M/M, Mandalorian Culture (Star Wars), Mandalorian Religion (Star Wars), Mando'a Language (Star Wars), Minor Character Death, Other, Overstimulation, Penetration, Size Difference, godfucker Jango Fett, kind of but similar, religious experience, there's a corpse but it's not really involved, third sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-16 14:41:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29455428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaxDuane/pseuds/PaxDuane
Summary: He meets his god again under a wash of neon and dribbly rain, after running a bounty to ground.
Relationships: Jango Fett/Kad Ha'rangir
Series: Unrelated Star Wars Drabbles [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1925734
Comments: 6
Kudos: 25





	written on the subway walls

He meets his god again under a wash of neon and dribbly rain, after running a bounty to ground.

You do not grow in the house of the Mand’alor without seeing Kad Ha’rangir in the corner of your eyes at least once. You do not lead Mando’ade without feeling their touch.

Ha’rangir catches him by the throat, shoves him up against dark walls, hard enough and high enough that his toes can’t even reach the bleeding corpse he’s left on the alley ground. It’s high enough that the kar’ad barely has to bring their head down to bring him into a Keldabe kiss.

Some people say the kiss is really an evocation of Keldabe itself, of the safety of a fortress and of those brown stone walls. With his buy’ce pressed against Ha’rangir’s, the world ripples and they are there, held against the city walls in the bright light of day. Jango scrambles his gloved hands along the slick kom’rke of their arms, catching on the spines that prick up and throughout all their beskar’gam.

He kicks, working his thighs to get his legs up and bracing his boots to try and shove.

“So, you _can_ still fight,” Ha’rangir rumbles, like planting storm thunder, through him. “Here I thought you were laying back and _taking it_.”

The kar’ad drops him, drops him skinless onto a thin, battlefield pallet mattress. Warm, starset light streams through the weave of the tent fabric.

“You languish,” Ha’rangir accuses, stripping off their kom’rke and dropping them with a hollow clang to the dirt.

He sits up on his elbows. “I don’t—,” Jango is cut off when two large fingers are shoved into his mouth.

“You languish and wait, you put a revenge that keeps you in the past on the shoulders of the future.” Ha’rangir tilts their head, the strange star-touch of their eyes locked on him as he sucks on the digits. “You lay back for a darjetii who rapes your mind.”

Jango reels back, saliva clinging to the fingers and connecting them to his lips. “Why do you care? I’m dar’manda, anyways. I might as well...”

The light of the tent darkens to moonlight and the air around his naked skin snaps cold.

He sobs.

The ringing of beskar against dirt follows like Kamino’s rain, before Ha’rangir climbs skinless onto the pallet and pulls him into their lap. “Oh, ner cyare, ner kar’iduur.” Sharp teeth bite into his lips. “You might stride that direction now, but you are not yet dar’manda. I will fight to keep you.”

He’s tipped back against the mattress and the kar’ad’s star-touched gaze scours his skin.

“Do you hear me, Jango Fett?” Ha’rangir rumbles.

“Elek,” he says, half-breathless.

The kar’ad nods decisively, the shifting disruptive camouflage on their face calming into a more forest-floor dappling than the tree-root-shadow dark.

Then they drop their lips to Jango’s jaw, drag along his neck, nipping at his pulse point, to his collarbone. Sword-calloused fingers sweep along his sides, massaging the muscles along his ribs before sweeping back up to tug at his nipples. He makes a noise somewhere between the whimper of a wounded animal and the yowl of a nexu in heat.

Ha’rangir’s laugh rumbling through his chest is the only warning he has before he’s being kissed. Two tongues explore his mouth, one curling up to fill most of his mouth cavity while the other meanders its way down his throat. He whines when they slip back up, Ha’rangir pulling back, but he’s somewhat mollified when the kar’ad slips three fingers, now, back between his lips.

While he focuses on sucking the digits in his mouth, Ha’rangir’s lips roam down to kiss his belly, then to take his cock between their own lips, careful with their sharp teeth, and wrap their tongues around it as they suck.

He moans and the fingers kark into his mouth.

“Mesh’la,” Ha’rangir says, pulling off of him. “Ner mesh’la kar’iduur, ner mand’alor.” They pull their fingers back and he shutters his eyes, mouth fallen open as he pants and tries to breath.

Two wet digits circle his entrance and he tenses, he can’t help it, it’s been so long since _anyone_ did this to him.

Ha’rangir croons to him and runs a hand along the inside of his thigh, right up against one of his scent glands, until he relaxes, then slips the spit-slick fingers inside of him. It won’t be enough to open him up, not even for a human let alone...

Between the already scissoring fingers, one of Ha’rangir’s tongues slips in. Jango’s eyes fly open as he gasps, his hips bucking as the thick muscle does a much better job of working him open. The kar’ad’s other hand presses him back into the thin mattress before caressing his thigh again.

“Mesh’la,” they growl again as they pull back for a moment, before going back to kissing him open. “Kotyc. Kotep. Ijaa’la. Ner haa’it. Ner kar’iidur.” Even before the second tongue joins the first in karking in and out of him, he’s gasping at the stimulation against every sensitive spot inside of him and from the thin haze of spiced vanilla pheromones filling the tent as the kar’ad continues to rub his inner thigh. A few minutes of being pressed open like that and there are tears streaming down the sides of his face. “Ner jate’beskad,” Ha’rangir croons, drawing a final flat lick from his entrance to the tip of his cock. “You’ll take me, now.”

There’s a brief shuffle of limbs, then the broad head of the kar’ad’s cock presses against, then past, his entrance, gliding with the thin later of saliva the tongues had worked into him as well as the little amount of natural slick his body produces. With a long roll of their hips together, he’s filled.

Ha’rangir settles above him, arms braced to allow for traction and his deep breaths.

He blinks up into the bright bite of starlight from their eyes, adjusting his fallen open legs to instead press against their sides.

“Jate?” Ha’rangir asks, kissing his jaw.

“Elek,” he breaths. “Nari?”

They press their forehead against his and the world shifts around him, again. A thicker mattress, with soft blankets dyed red and green. Dimly, he thinks he can see the vastness of a Coruscant night out a window from the corners of his eye. Ha’rangir tangles their fingers with his as they begin to roll their hips, slow and deep.

Jango cries out as they deeper and harder, eventually pulling back enough to truly start thrusting in and out of him, driving him more and more into the softness of the bed.

All the while, they caress and kiss his body, pulling at his nipples and pinching at his skin, lingering their lips where the blood beats fast and sucking bruises as reminders. They croon sweet words to soothe sharp bites and leaver one of his knees from their side to pressed near to his chest, ankle over their shoulder.

“Mine,” the kar’ad snarls as they speed their thrusts and match with a slide of strokes on his own cock. “The darjetii cannot have you, the duyc’urmankale cannot have you, you are _mine_.”

“Yours,” Jango sobs, “Only yours, only yours.”

With another snarl, Ha’rangir pushes the leg they had pressed up away, so he hooks his knee at the crook of their arm.

With a final flurry of thrusts, Ha’rangir buries themself inside of him and spills viscous, burning spend inside of him. They pant and pull away, pull out, to Jango’s discontent. Once they’re out, though, they turn their attention back to Jango’s near-neglected cock. With one hand, they stroke him, while their mouth goes back to Jango’s entrance, eating their own come out of him while they stroke, eventually pushing him over the edge to spill over his stomach.

“Jate,” Ha’rangir murmurs against his thigh before sinking sharp teeth into it. “Jate mand’alor.”

Jango whimpers as Ha’rangir pulls away fully. There’s a rustle of cloth, then the metallic snapping of beskar’gam being put back on.

“Oyacyir jate, Mand’alor,” are the final words Ha’rangir gives him, the cool metal of their mask pressing to this forehead.

When he finally pries his eyes open, he’s in the bright, artificial light of his bunk on the Slave I. His armor is stacked beside him and, when he goes to check, his bounty is in a stasis pod in the hold. Still, though, a bitemark stings on his inner thigh and the thick, sticky feeling of drying saliva and spend prickle between his legs.

It’s still different, when he goes into the fresher and can see the marks Kad Ha’rangir left on his body, claiming him again. It’s different and mind shaking, and, once he’s set course for the spot to drop his bounty off, he falls to his knees to cry.

He has seven more years before the contract will be up and the clones fully belong to the Republic. He has seven more years to fix this.

And he will.

**Author's Note:**

> kom'rke -- gauntlets  
> kar'iduur -- priest, lit. star spouse  
> kar'ad -- god, lit. star person/child  
> mesh'la -- beautiful  
> kotyc -- strong  
> kotep -- brave  
> ijaa’la -- honorable  
> ner haa’it -- my vision  
> ner jate'beskad -- my good sword (referring to a specific kind of Mandalorian sword, with a curved blade)  
> jate -- good  
> duyc’urmankale -- heretics  
> oyacyir jate -- be good, lit. live well/good
> 
> Some Other Notes:  
> I made Kad Ha'rangir (and some of the other gods) not all Taung because the painting of Arasuum has a topknot of hair, but they're still part Taung which lets me do some fun things. Like giving them a pair of really long and thick tongues. The magic saliva (in case you were wondering about why saliva was fine to use) is because they're a god. But! A thing not mentioned (besides intersex/third sex Taung (and also Jango)) is that they have a really fun dick. Big, slightly prehensile, and with a very broad head and some bumps on the shaft. Also the camouflage/disruptive coloration only changes with gods, but I do have my closely-Taung characters have it. 
> 
> May have some more notes I add tomorrow.


End file.
